“To get help?” I ask, trying to keep one foot in front of the other as Jack sails effortlessly over the ice.
“No. They just ran. By the time I got to him, Chill had been under for five minutes.”
Suddenly, Chill’s fear of the water makes sense. “You were his life jacket.”
“I guess.” Jack shrugs. “I dragged him out. Started CPR. It shouldn’t have worked, but when I breathed into him, he woke up. No frostbite. No brain damage. He’s been my Handler ever since.” Jackskates us back to the edge of the pond, holding me steady as I step onto the brittle reeds.
“So you turned him yourself?” I remember the day Poppy and I died. She pulled herself off her oxygen tank while Gaia was in the room, demanding to come with us as she wheezed to death. I don’t remember saving her. Gaia did that.
“What can I say? I’m pretty powerful.” Jack polishes his knuckles on his T-shirt. The thin fabric clings to his chest, the muscles underneath still tight after chopping all that firewood. My cheeks warm when I remember how they glistened with frost as he tugged the shirt over his bare skin.
I shove him playfully, if only to humble him, but he’s right. I’ve never seen him like this, on the cusp of his season. He’s radiant. Aglow with magic. Unfazed by the cold and growing stronger with every second he uses it.
“Oh, you laugh?” he says, backing away and balling his hand at his side. A glittering white ball materializes out of nowhere. He winds his arm back and pitches it at me, and the snowball knocks me breathless, not from the force, but because I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen one. “Not so tough now, are you? I’ve waited years to do that!” Another snowball’s already forming in his hand. He howls with laughter as it erupts against my shoulder, scattering flakes in my face.
“Two can play that!” I reach out, sliding my mind into a root in the shallow mud of the bank. I yank it with a thought, tripping him as he runs backward away from me. He falls supine in the wet grass and I leap on him, pinning his hands beside his head, my knees planted on both sides of his waist. His laughter dies. His cheeks are flushed with color,his eyes clear and bright, the pale gray of his irises contrasting starkly against his dark lashes as they lower, his gaze trailing over the flakes of snow in my hair. Then down to my lips.
Jack’s eyes close. His breath grows thick with frost. It shimmers as it forms a fine layer over his cheeks. His fingers grow suddenly colder in mine, thrumming with magic.
A white fleck drifts past the corner of my eye and I turn to catch it. Then another. My breath hitches as more begin to fall.
Snow.
Not the muddy slush that lingers in the gutters in March. Downy, fat flakes fall from the sky like feathers. They swirl in the air, alighting on the grass, forming a perfect circle around us. It’s beautiful and magical, like we’re lying in a snow globe. Jack smiles as they land on his cheeks and the tip of his nose. My throat thickens with memories—snow angels and sledding, presents and cocoa on Christmas morning, and long snow days off from school. This is a gift. The most amazing gift anyone’s ever given me.
“It feels like I’ve waited my whole life to show you this,” he whispers. His fingers curl around mine, steady and strong. I don’t want to let go. Don’t want to move from this place. Our noses brush, the breaths between us cold and sweet and eager. Winter jasmine. Thin ice. Lips parted.
“We shouldn’t risk it,” he whispers, his pulse quickening against my wrist. “If we’re not balanced—”
“We’re balanced.” I can feel it in the hum of our skin. In how strong I feel when I’m with him.
“What if I’m wrong?”
I close my eyes. “What if you’re right?”
I trace his mouth with my lips. Jack tips his face toward mine, and we meet in the middle, soft and careful at first. Then deep and careless and hungry as his tongue skates over mine. The longer we kiss, the warmer I feel. My knuckles ache where they hold him. I’m terrified to let go. That I’ll open my eyes and this shining, sparkling moment will be gone.
“Who’s out there?”
Our heads snap up. Lights flick on in the windows of the boarding school. I push myself up, ready to run, but Jack tugs me back down against his chest, pressing a finger to his lips.
“This is the headmaster. I know there’s someone out there. You know the rules.”
Jack’s face breaks into a wide grin. He cups the back of my head, his fingers tangled in my hair as he steals another kiss that nearly sets me on fire.
A flashlight beam breaks through the trees.
“If there are students out of bed after hours, the punishment will be severe. Present yourselves immediately!”
Jack fights down laughter as he pulls me to my feet. He leads me from the school, leaving our circle of snow to melt behind us. We’re running uphill through the dark, hand in hand, back to the safe house. But I’m certain that if he asked me to, I could fly.
29
Teeth for Battle
JACK
Fleur and I are still high on the rush of the kiss, of nearly being caught, still laughing as we climb the trail back to the cabin, giddy with fatigue.
